Jimmy
by deathandlemons
Summary: Meet Jimmy. He likes music, cussing, and movies. And no one knows him or his past. He has no record, or does he? So, what do his new friends think?
1. Uno

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the American Idiot or Young Justice characters. They respectively go to their creators, not me. I'm just some weirdo on the Internet.

* * *

**"**THIS IS THE JINGLETOWN POLICE DEPARTMENT. COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP OR WE'LL BE FORCED TO TAKE ACTION."

I looked around at my dirty apartment and thought about my so called friends. The bastards had ratted me out to the cops, I just knew it was them. I already had an escape plan ready, but I didn't want to use it unless it was the last thing possible to do. I never did.

But it always happened anyway.

I peeked out the curtains and saw at least four squad cars, ten officers with guns at the ready, and the chief of police standing out in the open, holding a bullhorn and looking severely pissed. Or sincerely sorry. But I didn't care. I couldn't do this anymore, couldn't live like this anymore.

I snuck up to the attic and out the skylight onto the roof. Once I'd established that all sides of the house were surrounded, I walked slowly up the the front edge of the roof, standing with my hands open and looking down at the cops.

After a few moments, they noticed me and Chief shouted up at me, "Son, don't do it!"

I shrugged, "What've I got left to lose? My friends have all left me, blamed me for all their problems because I was giving them drugs, only because if I didn't, I'd get my brains blown out. I've got no money left, I lost it all paying a debt that couldn't completely be paid, so I had to sell drugs. My family's all dead, or as good as it, my life's going nowhere, oh! And, here's the icing, you guys all come to bust me for stuff I was forced to do at gunpoint. Well," I pulled out my own gun and pressed it to my temple, "Here, I'll save you the trouble and just finish myself off. Good night Chief. Have a good life."

I took in a deep breath, and pulled the trigger.

I felt the bullet go through my brain and out the other side of my skull.

I felt my body go limp and give way, sending my tumbling over the edge.

I felt myself free falling through the air, then hit the ground with a sound that was in between a crack and a thud.

I felt hands grab me and put me in a black bag before placing me down on a stretcher.

I felt when they finally unzipped the bag and placed me on an examination table, then watched them walk away for the night.

That's when I moved.


	2. Dos

Disclaimer: I dont own any of the American Idiot or Youngjustice characters. They respectively go to their creators. I'm just some weirdo on the Internet.

* * *

**That's when I moved. **

You see, I have this uncanny ability to not die. Seriously. It's impossible for me to die, or at least I haven't found a way yet. Even if it takes me a few days, I always come back from the grave. All my wounds fix themselves, everyone forgets about me, and voila, I just get up and walk away. It's the perfect escape plan. You get to start all over again, no matter how bad.

The only down sides are that I then have to avoid everyone from my pasts, I have to make a completely new backstory and set of papers and everything everytime I start again, and really, I don't want to keep doing it. I just want one life, leaving all the others behind me, and to live it for the rest of my life until I die of natural causes or something.

I slowly sat up, looked around, and stepped down off the examination table. I pulled my leather jacket back on, retied my shoes, and slipped into an air duct, climbing my way out of the morgue.

I burst into fresh air a few minutes later, walking my way across town to the abandoned house where I'd been staying. The cops had all left, apparently sucide scenes were depressing, and the front door had been left open, idiots.

I stepped inside, rubbing my hands together for warmth by now, and went upstairs to my room. I threw all my clothes into a duffle bag, went to the bathroom, grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste, and looked in the mirror. My disguise was good, but this time, I was just going to go back to looking like myself. I sighed and stepped into the shower.

When I got back out, I'd dyed my hair back to it's original color and style, black and spiked, and the bronzer was all off my skin, making me super pale again. I carefully took out my colored contacts, showing a color of a light brown with a tiny bit of green.

I put on a black pair of skinny jeans, a belt with chains hanging by my left leg, a black sleeveless shirt with a gray heart outline with an upside down cross through the middle, and before I put my black Dr. Martens on, I pulled out the pieces of wood I'd been standing on, reverting me back to my height of 5' 7".

At four am, I finally got out of the house, walking my way over to the train station with my duffle bag over my shoulder. It was still open, it was a 24 hour spot, and there was still one old woman sitting at the last counter. I walked up to her, fixing a tired look on my face, and knocked on the counter.

She turned and looked me up and down, "I don't help runaways."

I was expecting this, "Ma'am, I'm not a minor. I'm twenty, just short and my car broke down just outside of town. I came to see if you had any tickets to Gothem City. I was on my way home for the holidays, but then... Well... But I've got money. I can pay in full, if you have any tickets."

She looked at me carefully, "Okay, the ticket's 159 bucks. Can you p-"

I pulled out the roll of twenty's I'd nicked off one of my "friends" and handed her eight, "Done. And keep the change."

She was astounded, I bet she thought I would've given her a sob story about how that wasn't enough. "O-okay, um, the train leaves at six this morning. If you're not there by six, the train will leave without you. Have a safe trip," she said, handing me the ticket.

I gently took it from her, putting it in my pocket, and thanked her before I went over to the small hearth the station had and sat in a big chair beside it. For an hour and a half, I sat there, feeling warm for the first time in days. The air was always cold in the old house, even the showers were cold, so I'd had to wear my black leEather jacket all the time and barely ever took it off.

I was even a little disappointed when I had to leave the hearth to make my train.


	3. Tres

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the American Idiot or Young Justice characters. They respectively belong to their creators. I'm just a weirdo on the Internet.

* * *

I was the only passenger. Well, the only one who got on. Already on the train were a group of rich business executives who all wore suits, a grandfather teaching this grandson about trains, a pastor and a few of his nuns worshiping god or something, and then, me. I found a spot in an empty compartment where I promptly dropped my stuff on the seat next to me, looked out the window, and put my earbuds in, Green Day ringing throughout my head.

* * *

Hours later, in the afternoon I'd say (I didn't have a watch and my iPod's clock was broken), the train came to a halt at a building. Everyone got off here, it was the Gothem and the end of the line, except for the boy and his grandpa, who were going to ride back home.

I looked around the platform, no one but the exiting passengers were present, but the place looked new, or built within the last few years, but barely used. I slung my bag over my shoulder and began walking out of the train yard, failing to hail a cab for at least twenty minutes before I decided to just walk.

* * *

About an hour later, I was sitting in the park, holding a sixth cup of coffee, and hopelessly and utterly lost. I was buzzed up on caffeine, my leg bouncing up and down like a jackhammer, and I'd been able to switch out my duffle bag for a backpack and looked like any old college student, except for the fact that I was 15, grinning like a maniac, and shivering a bit in my leather jacket. I'd found a scarf somewhere, crimson color, and hadn't taken it off since the moment I'd found it, adding a pair of aviators to my look too, because why the hell not.

The streetlights were turning on and it was getting darker, but I couldn't bring myself to move. The moment was peaceful and I just wanted it to stay that way. Plus, I wanted to finish my coffee. I closed my eyes for a second and when I opened them, a man in ragged clothing was sitting next to me.

"Good evening," he said in a high voice, one that shrieked like nails on a chalkboard.

I smiled, "And to you sir." There was a moment of silence.

"Do you know it's not safe in the park at night? There are dozens of murderers and thieves and crazies running around here, looking for prey," he screeched out.

I nodded, "And which category do you fit under?"

He looked at me with a grin that almost made me want to jump up and start sprinting away, "All of the above."

He was about to say more when I said, "Well, that's a wonderful accomplishment on your part, but I don't really care."

He was confused and distraught, "W-what?! Why not?! I'm the Joker for god's sake! Why aren't you running or screaming or at least afraid or ANYTHING?!"

"Apathy," I replied, taking a sip of coffee before I continued, "Well, I am tempted to just start yelling for Batman, or the cops, or someone just so you stop talking to me, but otherwise," I shrugged, "I don't really give a fuck."

His white painted face fell and he looked down, looking lost, "Well, that ruined my night. So what were you doing?"

"Just sitting and enjoying the silence."

He looked hurt for a second, "Harsh. Before I leave like you so obviously want me to, can I know your name? Because you're the only person I've ever found who isn't afraid of me?"

I looked him straight in the eye, "No, but you have a good night Jack." Then I stood up, smirking at his shocked expression, and walked away through the falling snow.

I'd been told every villain in Gothem's actual name by one guy I'd been selling drugs to, but he couldn't pay with money so he paid with secrets. I flipped my cardboard cup over and nothing came out. Great. Well, now that I was done with my coffee, I should go find a place to stay the night.


	4. Cuatro

Disclaimer: I don't own any American Idiot or Young Justice characters. They belong to the creators.

* * *

An hour later, I was standing in small, rickety room. I'd had to convince the woman at the counter that I was 20 to get a room, even though I was only 15, and she'd thrown a major fit until I'd passed her another couple twenties.

I sat down on the tiny bed, dropping my bag beside me, and sighed. Okay, I thought, tomorrow I'll go looking for a new place and this one will be MUCH better. I smiled to myself and flipped on the TV.

"... And tonight in crime news, Arkhem Asylum had a massive breakout earlier this evening and so far we know Poison Ivy, Catwoman, Penguin, Scarecrow, Two-Face, Clayface, Harlequin, and the Joker have all escaped for sure. If you see any of these people please call in to the Gothem City PD. And now to sports with Ricky!" the blonde bimbo that was called a newscaster said cheerfully.

I'm pretty sure that if I'd had water in my mouth, I would have spewed it everywhere. How could everyone seem so calm about this? Eight super criminals escaped today and no one's panicking? Why the hell not?! Then I realized that Gothem went through this at least once every two years or so, so this wasn't that strange. It was kind of sad that it had come to that.

Finally, I crawled into bed, trying to rid the image of the psychotic clown from my head. Oddly enough, that didn't happen.

Eventually, I just gave up and climbed out of bed. Throwing on my boots, coat, and scarf, I snuck out the window out onto the fire escape and tip-toed all the way to the top. I just stood on the roof for a moment, before walking over to the AC/heating machine and sitting down on it.

I shivered in the frigid wind and watched the lights of the city, building constellations out of all the glowing buildings and signs. It was beautiful. It was the reason I liked roofs so much.

I heard the tiny shuffle of deliberately quiet feet behind me, then- "You do know it's at only ten degrees, right?"

I shrugged, "I like the cold."

The voice snorted, "You're shivering enough to pass as a giant hummingbird."

"I'm used to it," I corrected, my jaw clenched tight to keep from twitching violently.

The person I'd been talking to came around to my front, the Dark Knight himself, Batman. He looked down and glared at me, "Go inside. I really don't want to drag your butt all the way to the hospital and I don't think you want me to either."

I studied his face, or what I could see with his mask on and covering half of his face, "Well, I think I could do that myself. The first stages of hypothermia are actually pretty fun when you start walking around, you know because all the blood has left your extremities." Then I grinned innocently up at him, like I was four again.

He glared harder, I think a little surprised I didn't listen, "I'm not going to let you sit out here until you freeze to death. Go inside before I decide to call social services."

I felt a tiny bit of color drain from my face before I nodded and stood, mock-saluting him as I said, "Sir yes sir!" Then I spun around, marched over to the fire escape and slid down the small banister down to my floor, pretty sure that if I walk down the stairs, I'd fall through them when they gave out on me. At my floor, I jumped into my room.

Sticking my head back out the window, I waved up at the Bat, "Now mister, you'd better get inside before you freeze to death. It's not very pleasant, no sir-ee. G'night!" and I slammed the glass closed, my heart pounding in my ears.

He didn't seem to recognize me, but if the Dark Knight found out, he'd hunt me down and beat the truth out of me until I revealed my past and just couldn't do that. I'd had a couple of bad histories, with multiple different identities, with the law and I was pretty sure that if I spilled the beans, I'd be locked up for good.

I swore at myself and banged my head against the wall, reeling in my own stupidity. I sighed, laid my clothes out for the next day, and packed the rest of my clothes into my backpack, getting ready to move hotels the next day.


	5. Cinco

Disclaimer: if you hadn't figured out earlier, I don't own any American Idiot or Young Justice characters. They belong respectively to their separate creators. I'm just fucking up everything else.

* * *

The next morning, I spent three hours looking for a new place to stay and ended up getting a small, run-down apartment in a complex near the most prestigious school in Gothem. Great, easier for the truancy cops to pick me up.

I sat around for a while before I got bored enough to go walking around town. I went past a few different buildings until I figured out that I was probably on the wrong side of town. I wandered to the park, around the the mall, through a few alleyways, and then back to base. Until I spotted a music store.

Running up to the window, I could already see the rows and rows of guitars. I spotted a black electric one in the window and tried to go inside, to see the price. But a big shopkeeper just stood in the doorway, "No kids unsupervised allowed inside."

I was being pushed out of the building when I said, "Wait, my parents gave me birthday money and I can pay!" This was a total lie because 1, my mom hated me and my dad, well, he'd been gone since the beginning, and 2, my birthday was in February, not December. But I could pay.

The guy bought it. He immediately stopped shoving me and looked me up and down before saying, "Come in. Have a look around, but don't break anything."

I nodded and walked past him to go look at the rows of guitars. I looked at all of them, first eliminating all the colors but red, black, and white. Then, I ruled out all the acoustics, I didn't like the sound as much, and the sparkly electrics, they sparkled. What was left was a red and white one, a white and black checkered one, and the black one I'd seen in the window. I chose the black one.

I picked it up and the manager-guy said, "Be careful with that! I mean, it is hard to replace, you know, with it being out of stock at all."

I nodded faintly and sat down on a stool in the middle of the room. I strummed, but cringed at the sound it made, it was way out of tune. I began to tune it, slowly fixing the sound before the guy saw me and pounced, "YOU CAN'T DO THAT!"

I turned to him, "Really? I can't? Well, it was way out of tune. Try it now." He strummed and it now sounded completely correct. He grumbled, handed it back, and wandered away.

I sighed and finished tuning quickly, trying out a few chords afterword. The manager walked up to me and said, sighing, "There's some music in the back, you can grab some to play if you get the guitar."

I nodded slowly, thinking, "Alright then, I'll take the guitar, one of those really small amps, a cable-thing to connect it to the guitar, and a packet of strings. I'm going to the back to go look for some music and a guitar strap." I handed him the guitar and strolled off to wards the back of the store.

I immediately found the Green Day stuff and grabbed the music for the albums Uno...Dos...Tré, American Idiot, 21st Century Breakdown, Dookie, and Warning. I brought them up to the counter and found the picks, where I chose six, two red, two white, and two black, and the straps, I got the simple black one. The manager stared at me when I paid in full, damn I was out almost 300 bucks, and slowly handed over the stuff, the extra stuff in a bag.

I was almost to the door, the guitar slung over my shoulder, when he shouted, "WAIT!" He ran over with a a black case, one with lots of gray pockets, "Here, on the house. I couldn't bear to see that guitar all smashed up when you get home."

I looked him up and down, looking for the catch, but there wasn't any. "Um, thanks sir!"  
"Phil, and come back anytime. Hey, if you know how to play, could you help with a class? It's teaching to a couple kids Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at 5:30 pm. I'll pay you!" he blurted out.

I was taken aback, but smiled, "It's Jimmy and sure! I'd love to! So, you want me to bring my guitar?"

Phil nodded, "Yep. So, see you there? Tomorrow at four thirty? Just so I can hear you play some more."

"Yeah, sounds good! Well then, bye Phil! See you tomorrow!" The jingle of bells followed me out the door.


End file.
